It Gets Better
by vapourtrailreads
Summary: [AU] An accident during Care of Magical Creatures gives Zacharias Smith more things to be jealous of... or is it the other way round? Written for QLFC Round 11


**It Gets Better**

"An' this is little Carrie," said Hagrid proudly, letting the baby Occamy slither from his large hands into Zacharias's. It was a shimmery mix of teal and royal purple, with tiny wings that looked more like tufts of ripped-up cushions.

Zacharias sniffed in faint disdain and looked up at the sky. Grey clouds were roiling against a backdrop of drab, rapidly darkening white—a storm was coming. He sighed and turned back to the lesson.

They were to work with Occamies for the rest of the month as part of Care of Magical Creatures, since everyone had reached a consensus that they would rather work with Occamies than work with Fwoopers. It was getting warm, and no one had any intention of putting on earmuffs just to avoid going insane.

Zacharias sat on a large stone and picked up a handful of dried beetles, cringing at the crumbling sound they made under his fingers. Careful not to drop any, he held them out to Carrie, who chirped in disgust and turned its beak away.

"Come _on,_" Zacharias coaxed, trying not to show how exasperated he was getting.

Applause broke out, rapturous and not meant for him at all. He wheeled around and saw everyone crowding around Ernie Macmillan, who wore a triumphant grin as he gazed down at the Occamy coiled around his wrist, eating enthusiastically out of his hand.

"Bloody hell, Ernie, how do you do it?" Hannah Abbott was saying, while behind her, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Terry Boot were busy discussing something, both with their eyes locked on the scene.

Something rose up in Zacharias, something poisonous and angry and horrible, and he shot to his feet, Carrie squawking in protest at the sudden movement. "What's the big deal? Huh? _What's the big deal?_" he yelled, his throat tightening with bitter jealousy. "My gran could do better! And she's _dead!_"

He spun on his heel and marched off to a quieter spot, blocking the sounds of his classmates' laughter from his mind. It wasn't fair, how everyone was better than him, even after he'd tried and tried and worked so hard, it just wasn't fair—

Lightning flashed. Zacharias looked up at the storm, watching the pale burning lines snake, crackle, lash out across the sky like whips.

It flashed brighter than the most luminous star, colouring everything white as it struck a very certain point on the ground.

Where Zacharias was standing.

And as he fell to the ground, the white light faded to black and then—

Nothing.

_XXXXXXXX_

He looked up at the ceiling of the hospital wing, blinking slowly. There was a faint, persistent itch against his skin, like someone was rubbing him with sandpaper instead of a towel.

Zacharias attempted to sit up in the bed, and a firm hand on his shoulder helped him up, propping a pillow against the headboard for him to lean on.

"Are you all right?"

Concern seemed to overflow from Professor Sprout's gaze, and he nodded. Zacharias opened his mouth to ask for water, but the words that came out of his mouth were very different, so much that he didn't even remember wanting to say them.

"I got struck by lightning, and it itches. Why?"

Sprout's face went white. Her eyes flicked downward. Zacharias followed her gaze, and immediately wished he hadn't.

It wasn't his skin that was itching.

It wasn't even skin at all.

With a shaking hand, he drew the covers aside.

His fingers, his arms, his legs, his feet—it was all covered in the same smooth, glimmering scales as the Occamy he had been holding just a while ago.

Or when he was last awake. Whatever.

_What… what is this?_

"When the lightning struck you, it… bonded the Occamy to you," said Sprout, her voice soft and horrified. Zacharias didn't blame her. "Everyone thought you had been killed, because they couldn't find your body, but—"

She swallowed, and continued, "Mr. Smith, I'm sure you are… familiar with the choranaptyxic abilities of the Occamy?"

Zacharias nodded, still trying to fight his way out of the thick calm that had wrapped itself around him. "It is able to expand and shrink to accommodate available space," Sprout went on. "And when the lightning struck you..."

She trailed off, leaving Zacharias to finish.

"I gained the Occamy's ability?"

After a moment's pause, Sprout nodded.

_XXXXXXXX_

One might think that gaining awesome choranaptyxic powers would be enough to make anyone satisfied with their life, but not Zacharias.

Oh, no. Not Zacharias.

He was still jealous. Of everything and everyone.

Well, to be exact, he was jealous of the students who didn't have to wear long sleeves and long pants every second of the day because they had scales for skin. Jealous of the kids who didn't have to report to the hospital wing every two days just to get prodded by healers and Ministry officials and even the bloody Daily Prophet. Jealous that they didn't sometimes sneeze while in the shower and end up either squashed against the walls, or clinging to the edge of a cracked tile, struggling not to get washed away by the still-running water gushing from now-oversized taps.

Which was basically everything and everyone.

Zacharias gritted his teeth as he focused on the keyhole. It seemed so inconspicuous. So small. It should be impossible.

"It's not impossible, I believe."

Professor Dumbledore smiled at him warmly, over the edge of a Muggle knitting magazine, of all things. Zacharias cringed.

"Go on."

Zacharias backed away from the keyhole, to the blackboard at the front of the classroom. He'd been doing this every weekend, running at a stupid keyhole in a stupid door, and getting his nose broken, and healed just to be broken again. He locked his eyes on the tarnished brass, sucked in a breath, and ran.

Five steps from the keyhole, he let his entire body relax.

And he felt the air around him swirl in the sudden vacuum left in his wake as he shot through the keyhole...

and emerged on the other side.

Normally sized.

For the first time.

Zacharias held his breath.

The world spun on.

Dumbledore didn't even drop his knitting magazine.

And just as Zacharias' heart prepared to slip back into the black of jealous resentment, he heard it.

"Well done, Mr Smith."

The four words flashed in his mind, driving the dark away. Maybe… maybe it wasn't so bad to be different. Maybe he had no reason to be jealous after all...

His arms flared up with burning itches, and he crumpled to the ground again.

Okay. It was still that bad.

But maybe, Zacharias thought, as Dumbledore waved his wand and lifted him up, probably to take him to the hospital again, maybe it could get better.

Maybe it already was.

_**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**_

Team: Appleby Arrows

CHASER 1: **A character gains immense powers (super-hero!AU, god/demi-god!AU, some sort of spell/curse, anything goes)**

OPTIONAL PROMPTS:

#3: (quote) My gran could do better! And she's dead! - Gordon Ramsey

#12: (magical creature) Occamy

#15: (emotion) jealousy

Word Count: 1129


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